


Flashbacks and scenes for a roleplay that was too big for Discord

by Elfwich



Series: Roleplay Tales [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwich/pseuds/Elfwich
Summary: Once upon a time, a story got so convoluted and out of control that it needed a separate medium just to convey all of the little details. Thus, this story was born. Hark, fair traveler, for these words are for the eyes of only myself and my roleplaying partner. But if you wish to read it, then who am I to stop you? Just prepare for a lot of nonsense.
Series: Roleplay Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929715
Kudos: 1





	1. A Den of Lions and Wolves

_The Temple of The World_. In one bygone era, it was designed to celebrate the union of the Earth, the Sea, and the Sky, placed at the coast of China beside the South China Sea, atop a range of hills elevating it nearer the heavens, with very little tree cover so not to disillusion its inhabitants with the sky above. But nobody had lived here for over a century, and it had seen little use ever since the separation of nations and the pact of the World Clan that ultimately lead to their own division. The neighboring foliage had seen a state of disarray in the intervening decades since, and the trees had been allowed to tower around the perimeter of the main facility, smothering out the sky above. Nobody had seen any desire to clear it out... most certainly not the most recent inhabitants, who had much more on their plate than aspirations toward housecleaning.  
  
The wind whipped furiously, causing the wooden frame of the ancient complex to creak and buckle slightly against its unrelenting blows. The dust was shaken out of the numerous tinkling wind chimes strung about at nearly every niche and frame in the monastery. Ghoulish groaning and whistling noises pushed up through the stone tunnels stretching underneath the rustic facade of the outer complex, blowing strongest from the chapel room adjoining the four central hallways. Atop the dais at the center of the room there stood a block of obsidian with three separate, yet converging slots, two of which were currently filled by the presence of a sword; two of the _Three_ _Blades of The World,_ the Sword of Izanami, and the Sword of Watatsumi. The third of these blades, the Sword of Shinatobe, was presently being held and inspected by one Chokichi Kichida, the war criminal known otherwise as Unknown, who, while he maintained rightful ownership of one of these blades through the sanctity of his birthright, wasn't entitled to the sword belonging to Shinatobe. Rather, his purpose for holding it now was merely to try his hand at imposing his will over it, to force it to comply to him through sheer force of spiritual exertion... but the ancient spirit festering within would not waver against this mortal, it continued to defy him resolutely at every turn, continued to prove more stubborn in its resolve than even he could say about himself.  
  
So, in the end, he was forced to concede his efforts as nothing short of a sporting try at supremacy, and, having no other use for this stubborn little spirit, replaced the blade within its slot among its kin. At this, the furious howl of the winds within the chamber instantly silenced, as though a switch had been shut off, leaving not but an eerie quiet in their wake...  
  
"You have only yourself to thank for your present confinement, Chie, I hope you've made peace with this," Chokichi stated calmly after a beat, looking aside to the image of the dignified woman, fallen from grace upon the stone floor, her drapes of sleek black hair flowing like disheveled rivers down her shoulders as her tight, pallid features portrayed nothing but the deepest loathing for these words of spite meant for her ear. The Lioness had seen better days, this much was certain, and Chokichi met this realization not so much with satisfaction as pity for the state of collapse he had borne witness to in the composure of his once revered master. "All of the pretty little lies you have told to your subordinates, all to coast you by your efforts toward petty self-gain, all leading up to this. You thought yourself destined for immortality, fooled yourself into believing you stand higher than the squalor of your deeds, and yet the only thing being immortalized are the consequences of the failings you've rationalized as being for the greater good."  
  
"How are you one to pelt me with such platitudes, Chokichi..." The Lioness growled out with an affronted snarl, "When everything you do in service of Izanami is all put toward the elusive ghost of a chance at vengeance against one man who wronged you? Have we not been through this, that you can hold no conviction for your position among the divine, not so long as your destiny is forever tethered to that alien!" The golden chains binding her rattled as they tautened around her tossing and writhing form, her teeth bared and her eyes filled with venom, "And yet, you carry on with your all-encompassing obsession, while these simple-minded cretins continue to follow you, the hypocrite, with not a single clue as to their purpose relative to these delusions of closure you play host to," She threw her head back to laugh at the irony of the image burgeoning at the forefront of her mind, "Even worse, you believe that _they_ are the ones being used to your benefit, when it is really you yourself being used to the benefit of another! Through all the tales you've glimpsed regarding your study of her, tell me, has Lady Izanami ever been known to be benevolent to those she has dealt with?"  
  
"Every disciple that has passed your doorstep, you've boorishly stripped them of all meaning, of all purpose and sense of self, all for the sake of better serving your own ill-gotten ascension!" Chokichi screamed, stepping closer to the point where he loomed over his prisoner, and yet _she_ appeared to be the one to have _him_ trapped in her clutches, to the point where he allowed his emotions to get the better of him, "You make them feel as though they depend on you, all by holding the answers to their every elusive question hostage! You keep them blind and ignorant, and leave them wanting, so that they remain weak and subservient to your whims," All he could do was point fingers, with anger blazing in his one good eye, unable to do away with this creature of his frustrations. He needed her if his plans were to continue unhindered, he needed to keep this in mind... "However..." He straightened himself out, running his hands back through his ragged and colorless strands of hair, shutting one eye while the other continued to stare ahead, unseeing and dead, "No longer. The dynasty of the Lioness has already crumbled, injected with the slightest presence of doubt, and tonight I shall bear the fruits of a fallen monarch. Tonight, I shall sort through the wreckage of the old order and empower a new one to rise from its wreckage, and tomorrow, the world will once more acknowledge its gods and the weak shall be taken out of the equation. For you see..." Chokichi turned his back on the woman reposed before him, and it was only then that something that had, thus far, been out of her reach was finally made clear to her, and she was left to look on in rekindled horror and desperation as the gravity of this realization prompted her to once more struggle against her bonds, "Only the weak may exist in this world, but only the strong are allowed to live."  
  
" _Wait! Chokichi!"_ The Lioness called out, but he had already begun his exit through the adjacent hall, and he hardly needed to gesture for his accompanying guard to contain her and begin dragging her through the opposite passage, _"WAIT!! CHOKICHI, WAIT!!"_ She tossed herself to the ground to keep her assailants from taking her away, but her fastened limbs betrayed her in making it all too simple for them to pick her up again and carry her away, _"CHOKICHIIIIIII!!!!"  
  
\------------------------------------------------  
  
  
_Years of servitude, a vast majority of her lifetime dedicated to proving herself peer to Izanami, it provided the Lioness little comfort where she found herself, ragged and cold, living in squalor within a dungeon that had managed to stand the test of time in being supremely impermeable. Try as she might, she was unable to get herself free of her own accord, and was, thus, forced to resort to praying for the arrival of a miracle. How deep she had fallen, she thought to herself amidst her hours of forced seclusion. Where once she had the world between her fingers, now she had been deprived not only of her treasured disciple, Naomi, not only of her place as matriarch to the Playpen, but also of the pride she had once believed so important to her reign. With a mountain of crimes and grievances so insurmountable behind where she now stood, she let herself consider for an instant that there might be truth to what others like Naomi had been telling her all this time, and perhaps it was only natural that her lifetime of self-indulgence has lead her to this trying point in her life.   
  
However, could she really be blamed for creating the monster that was Chokichi, a man who was, in essence, just so angry at the world? For all the sins she had committed, surely credit for this one was least deserved? After all, _she_ hadn't always been a monster, either. Somebody else had set her along this path, had made her believe herself so precious and important as to pose challenge to the gods themselves, but she was unable to remember who... not when the light scuffle of approaching footsteps alerted her to something bordering outside her own mind, for a change. But of course! She had forgotten with all of her recent failings regarding Chokichi and his disciples that she still had one card to hold close to her chest, and that was her loyal apostle, Haruka.  
  
"My Lioness. What remains of our number approach the perimeter as we speak, and are prepared to do whatever it takes to cover our escape," Haruka stated promptly once he had unbolted the cell door and begun unfastening his beloved master from the chains that had, thus far, subjugated her. But now she was liberated, and all inhibitions were lifted away at once to be replaced by favor toward the one soldier fate had afforded her in this dire hour. Perhaps she was doing something right, after all.  
  
"Then we must make haste, good, loyal Haruka, and let the shadows be our guide," The Lioness murmured amicably, getting low and wending past him at a crawling pace. An unfortunate irony for the Lioness was that she always had somebody to pull her up whenever she ventured into unfavorable territory, even in the moments where doing so might be a beneficial, even humbling thing.  
  
The chapel beyond was dark and still, and yet these two agents crept through it as though through a veil of gossamer, seamlessly and without a trace to their name... and yet still, the greatest enemy of the Lioness, her greed, being as it was, threatened their crusade to friendlier pastures; the golden handle of Izanami's sword glittered underneath the slightest shaft of light and lured her attention, pulling her nearer. If only it were as simple as reaching out and taking the sword within both of her hands, to embolden herself with the powers of darkness and the earth at her fingertips. It _felt_ so simple just looking at the blade affixed within the obsidian plinth, and so busy was she pondering the simplicity of it all that Haruka's words of warning fell dull upon her ears. Her attention was only on the sword, and the power that it promised to those it deemed worthy to hold it...  
  
But then she knew, from the moment the tips of her fingers grazed the polished gold of the sword's pommel, even before it began to burn white-hot, that just because something appears simple, it does not make it so, and she paid dearly for this lapse in her judgement when the torches adjoined to the walls lit themselves to reveal that they were being approached from all sides by the faceless members of Chokichi's cabal, their weapons held true to kill. The Lioness felt a rumble beneath the sword dais, and even as she watched it begin sinking into a secret compartment under the floor, she still made a swipe to grab the Sword of Izanami before it disappeared forever. But, ultimately, her hands fell flat against the closing panel, completely deprived of its treasure, her mind abuzz with all thoughts apart from what her blunders had cost poor Haruka, who was presently being accosted by one of their asides. Then she heard that horrible, modulated voice, and instantly she knew fear.  
  
"You put me through the trouble of laying out every possible opportunity for your improvement, Chie, and yet you continue to disappoint even my wildest figments of redemption for you. You never learn, your methods, much like your pride, remain stubbornly antiquated," Chokichi chided, stepping into the light and completing his state of under-dress by casting off his tactical helmet and passing it aside to one of his protégés, "But, for you, I shall remove all masks and determine whether you will then feel compelled to remove yours," Then, to the woman's horror and surprise, he needed only extend a hand to materialize the blade she prized into the palm of his hand through a rush of golden light. He held it horizontally, non-threateningly, and peered at it closely amidst the half-light, "Izanami has taught me much, and I am surprised to learn that she senses such turmoil within you, such reserves of doubt I never thought possible..."  
  
As Chokichi spoke, the shadows surrounding his feet began to steadily creep toward the staggered Lioness, and she had only little time to get her head screwed back on enough to jump backward, away from the ethereal clutches of whatever force beyond the blade had chosen to forsake her. She looked back to Haruka, who appeared to have about as little suggestion for escape as she presently withheld. But, as soon as she looked ahead, her hopes were rekindled by the sight of familiar faces looming beyond the crowd of her adversaries, of the golden masks synonymous with her guild, synonymous with her allies. So she stood tall, continued to allow the man to prattle on, all the better to sew the seeds of his own immediate downfall...  
  
"The Playpen deserves much better than your darkest doubts, wouldn't you agree? They deserve a leader who never questions their decisions, who knows exactly what they're doing on a continually dependable basis," Chokichi finished, lifting a hand to prevent the archers opposite him from opening fire on the members of the Playpen, who had each taken a hostage of their own from the Cabal and pressed a blade accordingly against their throats, all while their Lioness looked upon her loathed with a victorious gloat.  
  
"Is it not a pity, then, that you would only disappoint them?" She oozed poisonously, utterly satisfied with the glorious irony seen only through her own eyes; whereas, where she noticed a prevailing advantage, Chokichi only saw an opportunity for himself, and, as such, he placed Izanami's sword aside and cast away the robes covering his person so that he was completely exposed to the circumstances surrounding him, much to her utter incredulity.  
  
"Perhaps so..." Chokichi conceded while running a hand along his wrist, his entire left arm up to his breast having been imprinted with the elaborate _Tapestry_ _of the Lion,_ which shimmered momentarily at the flexing of his fingers, "But as the old customs have yet to expire, we must all endure the many irksome tribulations of ceremony, while they still pose to our benefit," He then furled his fingers into a fist and lifted it into the air, and before the Lioness had the chance to put together what was about to happen, she had gotten a better look at the tapestry inscribed upon his flesh, and was shocked to discover that it was instead emblazoned with the likeness of a wolf; the patron animal of the Kichida Clan.  
  
"As representative of Clan Kichida, I invoke _Saishū Kettei!"  
  
  
_The gravity of these words weighed down heavily upon the souls of all who heard them, even long after they had been spoken, as they were caught transfixed that somebody would invoke this ancient rite. Even still, as they adhered to the old tradition, they were bound by honor to abide by it, members of the Playpen and the Cabal alike lowering their weapons off of one another and standing in waiting for what was to transpire proceeding. The Lioness, alone, appeared to maintain her thoroughly astonished demeanor at this unprecedented challenge, unable to do away with the suspicion that Chokichi had something up his sleeve invoking a rite of the very creed he himself had been known to despise. Furthermore, she eyed the golden pommel of the treasured blade she now viewed as nothing short of a warning sign, standing just inches away from Chokichi's grasp. As though sensing the apprehension in her gaze, he saw fit to be merciful and alleviate her woes, taking up the sword and vanishing it with just the twirl of his wrist. At this, the Lioness had no excuse but to adhere to her time-honored allegiance to the old way... and submit herself to the challenge.  
  
"Your conditions are met, Chokichi of Clan Kichida..." The Lioness reciprocated, folding her hands in the sleeves of her robes and bowing her head in the one semblance of respect she had ever deigned to show her disillusioned pupil, all the while keeping her golden eyes on her opponent, wary of the dangers of exposing her neck too soon, "May you harbor the strength and cunning of your ancestors."  
  
And thus, in that moment, something ignited between the two clans, all of the tension that had been mounting in the spare moments preceding reached an indomitable fever pitch, and all bad blood between them had given way to neutrality where each member stood as individuals awaiting a singular verdict; all around the two fighters, it was a den of lions and wolves, and Haruka needed only to toss them each a blade to defend themselves with for they, too, to give way to their own savagery.   
  
The Lioness went for the throat instantly, swiping forward to catch out of sorts the little Wolf that had dared challenge her in her territory, but this creature of the pack wended backwards to avoid her blade, strategically feeling out the terrain for the perfect opportunity to strike from... before leaping forward and going for the kill, only to just barely miss his quarry between the legs as she dodge rolled backwards and turned herself with fluid, graceful motion, back to her feet. It was immediately clear that this wasn't the same Lioness from their previous foray, she was no longer caught unawares, was no longer stilted up by her own arrogance; she had taken the time between to watch the Wolf, learn his ways, and to plan how best to dismantle his offense. But the Wolf was in no position to play with his prey this time, he was determined to tear into the Lioness' flesh, to get at the heart of her newfound resolve and strip it away until there was nothing left. He feigned a blow and managed to stagger the Lioness with his elbow, but, as he would soon learn, this prideful creature was in no mood for losing, herself, and she was there to catch his blade over her shoulder when he went to bring it down on her head. Several times their blades met, in a flash of gold, and every time they bordered nearer the heart of one another, both ferocious beasts out to kill. The Lioness reared backwards, stunning the Wolf's senses with the split-second brush of her robe ends, which afforded her the window needed to go in and secure a cut along his side, and, while he was staggered by this initial blow, she took another, ready to round back for a third... but the Wolf steadied his technique, ebbing away the pain and heightening his focus, and the _Mark of the Wolf_ lent him the strength to persevere beyond the threshold of mortality and sacrifice his hip to secure a crucial blow to the Lioness' senses, shattering her sense of smell. At this, the Lioness seethed with white-hot soreness and anger, her royal blood spilling from her nose and through her fingers as she glared daggers into her quarry, who invited her approach more than anything. And so, the Lioness obliged, attacking with peerless ferocity, digging her claws into the flesh of the mangy Wolf who dared to attack her this way; an onslaught that saw her gain repercussions in the form of her enemy's blade sliding underneath her arm. But she had secured her revenge with the Wolf's bastard blood staining her fingertips, and she took her blade back up in preparation for his own retaliation, despite finding her right shoulder heavy with her own loss of blood.  
  
It was at this pivotal transition into the second leg of their confrontation that both Lioness and Wolf called upon their native patron, with the golden eyes of the lion flashing a dangerous hue and the honed claws of the wolf burning with the heat of his residual chi. The lines of their tattoos shone through their clothes, and shone ever brighter as they bordered on one another, and what followed was a flurry of activity that saw neither gaining the upper hand over the other, as their movements were too fluid, too precise for any of their idle witnesses to make out who prevailed... until both stopped, their swords forming sparks against one another, fresh gashes bleeding hot blood into their faces. A singular strand of hair fell over the Lioness' face, but it was this simple movement that stilled her momentum, and it was the one faltering moment that the Wolf needed to slice her fingers and cast the blade out of her hands, where he caught it midair and let fly both blades true, severing off the Lioness' hands. He then stepped back and allowed the Lioness to stagger backwards onto her knees, all motive for reciprocation knocked out of her with the devastating loss of her hands, and she attempted not to betray a scream of agony, but her expression buckled underneath the weight of this insurmountable loss, and she forced herself to look up into the pitiless gaze of her enemy whenever he saw fit to press the tip of his blade against her throat.  
  
"As is tradition, I should be compelled to deal the finishing blow, and, at this point, it would be nothing but merciful..." Chokichi murmured, his one eye steadily following the scarlet beads of blood forming on her pale throat from the pressure of his blade tip. Then, he leaned in close, looming over his defeated and maimed adversary and whispering words that only she could hear, "But you haven't suffered enough, as far as I'm concerned, you will have never suffered enough. No, not until you've had enough time to absorb the fact of having lost everything," He would have expected her to snap her jaws at him, to even throw herself upon him in a desperate and futile attempt to see him hurt, but she made no moves, nor did she give any indication that she had heard him. In fact, whenever he pulled away and looked upon her with such burning superiority, the only person she seemed concerned with was the traitor, Haruka, who she looked upon with face as white as a sheet and eyes shot red.  
  
"You..." The Lioness' voice croaked out, warbling from either the formidable burden of pain with which she dealt, or the outrage she faced in light of her most trusted advisor shedding his sheep's clothes, "You _betray_ me, Haruka..? This entire time... you only meant to lead me on, to lead me... here..?" And at these words, he seemed to portray genuine shame and sorrow. At least enough to prompt a response.  
  
"I merely saw fit in the moment to weigh my options, mistress, and to leave the verdict in the capable hands of another, and, in the end, the truth prevailed and I now no longer find myself content with living a lie when the truth offers so much more. I am sorry." Haruka stated, but his Lioness' voice roared out strong and devastating.  
  
_"HOW DARE YOU APOLOGIZE, YOU COWARD! HOW DARE YOU GRANT ME PITY WHEN YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DO!"  
  
  
_But the Lioness' screams of outrage, of betrayal were treated as nothing more than the ramblings of a sycophant, given no ear to be heard, given not even the attention of the eyes surrounding, as they were all on Chokichi, simultaneously apprehensive and expectant of something, anything to come in way of confirming his supremacy to both clans, joined as one. Being a man of simple ideologies, of simple strength, however, he chose not to declare his ushering in of a new age with words, but actions, drawing the Sword of Izanami from the ground and holding it aloft, as a beacon of his will, of the sense of honor that had earned him the influence and the favor of the spirit of the Earth itself, and at this declaration, the very ground appeared to shake beneath his feet as his Cabal, old members and new members alike, shouted out in one unified voice, in tribute to their new leader.  
  
All, except for one young disciple who had watched the entire unfolding of events from the back of the crowd, and who, unnoticed, fled from the scene, fearful for his life under this new regime, and fearful for his brothers, fallen victim to the insanity of this zealot. He needed to find somebody, anybody, who would stand against Chokichi, to prevent him from unleashing ungodly power upon the entire world. For this cub had seen something even more terrifying underneath his wolf's clothing... something monstrous, apart from nature, apart from reason.


	2. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

The hum of the dropship engines died down, and Naomi deftly acknowledged the unsettling of piles upon piles of dead leaves; she knew that the family monastery had remained abandoned for quite some time, as she had been the very last to leave its empty halls, and nobody would see use in exploring such a dusty old ruin, most certainly not anybody she needed to worry about. Even still, seeing the hollowed out corpse of an old dynasty brought to her a sense of longing that she had dreaded the entire flight over here, but she would have to leave all of her fear behind once she passed over the threshold; she needed to confront to past in order to come to terms with the present, and would leave having came here for what she sought, or not at all. She set the instruments of her vessel to idle, then stepped down off of the docking ramp, feeling the sensation of stone scraping beneath her feet deep in her gut.  
  
She already missed the others, and already regretted leaving them so suddenly...  
  
More tangibly than ever, Naomi felt her breath run throughout all of her extremities as lifted her heavy limbs and stepped over the invisible boundary separating her new life from her old one, and once she stepped out onto the stone overpass bridging the mountainside to the main complex, it occurred to her that there was no going back... because the fact that it felt like only yesterday that she had escaped this place made her realize, here and now, that she never really had.  
  
It was then that her mind forced her to revisit those horrid memories that seemed to piece themselves together right before her very eyes as they passed over specific aspects of the surrounding area; the distant sight of the ruins poking out through the mountainous bluff, the treacherous rock pillars she had surmounted upon returning with the sword at sunset... and, finally, the main courtyard of the main monastery, where she had witnessed the souls of her clan be forcefully stripped from their bodies, to the point where barely a trace of them was left on the earth. Even the stakes she had erected through the stone floor to represent those who passed we but pale imitations. They barely did justice to the people who used to stand there, breathing, experiencing, living... she found her fingers gripping around a thick lock of her hair, as if they remembered the mere moments after, when Shinatobe herself stole the sun from the sky, then needed only rake her fingers through her hair to mark her as her own forever; with a plait of shimmering silver, _"to resemble the winds that flows free."  
  
Only, I was anything but, _she wanted to say aloud, but she couldn't bring herself to express anything aside from a chill as a deep feeling of wrongness overtook her, as though there was something on her skin that she just couldn't wash off... she may not have worn her color anymore, but this didn't change the fact that Shinatobe had her hooks in her, no matter how far apart they now were. But rather than feel glad to be rid of her, losing her had the exact opposite effect; any joy she _could_ feel being away from her would be misplaced in the wake of the affect it had on the world, and on her, personally... it made her was to tear off her own skin, but she couldn't keep the suspicion out of her mind, couldn't keep herself from considering the possibility that she...  
  
Naomi broke from her trance, and this was when she realized that her skin had gone clammy and cold, bringing a hand to her chest as her heart seemed desperate to hammer straight through. She refused to accept that she missed her... no, who she _truly_ missed was her mother, who always had something so nice to say about her head of pretty black hair. She would probably glad to see it back to the way it was supposed to be...  
  
_"Hana..."  
_  
It was a voice and a name that Naomi recognized all too well, and the thrill of familiarity rose up through her stomach in the moment proceeding, then back down to her legs, prompted her to turn and witness a crowd of apparitions, thrown into relief under a blanket of pale golden light, having manifested right where she had just tread only seconds before. Her more obscure relatives, the apparitions standing in the middle distance, presented themselves merely as blurred outlines, but the visions of her mother and her father were the clearest among them all, because those were the ones she remembered most fondly. Every day since the last day they spoke, Naomi could remember every wrinkle, every line of their faces, and this was how she knew that the visions shown here were for her eyes alone; this was exactly how she remembered them all, and the weight of this crushing realization nearly caused her crumble.  
  
"As much as we have missed the warmth of your smile, _Hana_ , there is such tragic beauty even in the look you give us now." Said the voice of her mother, with her father standing at her shoulder, with his own solemn smile, as ever, conveying more than his words ever did for her. This alone instilled in her a great feeling of despair, of regret for her days wasted condemning the absence of what she realized was always there; the love of a father for his child, despite every fault to the contrary, "When you have been lost for oh-so long, you come to realize that there is dishonor not in a smile, nor in a frown."  
  
"Nor a lack of perspective, though I'm afriad _we_ have been the ones to dishonor _you_ ," Spoke the voice of her father, as if the nature of those sharp eyes, which saw so much in his days of living, offered him clarity in the very thoughts and feelings of his progeny in his days of death. Never before had Naomi ever felt so understood by her father, and when he and her mother moved in closer to embrace her, she was surprised to find not the biting chill of ghosts tethered to the Earth, but the warmth of a calm breeze visiting low upon the ground. The dead were not cold and bitter for the end of their journey, but warm and inviting for those still living through theirs, "As a child, you had little to lose, and yet everything to gain from exploring a world that, for you, was still a but a novelty. The onus of relinquishing that knowledge, and the blame of failing to, it all falls on our shoulders, not yours.We thought we were protecting you, yet you found yourself in such terrible danger, still. Now, as a young woman, of such strength and fragility, of such suffering and prosperity, you have faced many trials, travelled as far as the grave in search of perspective. You have come to us for answers, and so we shall give to you what you desire, if it is still something you do desire with the whole of your heart."  
  
Naomi, having fallen against the bosom of her fallen family, having gotten so comfortable with the continued presence of the dead and the words they spoke, took it as an icy burden to once more be enlightened to the circumstance of the living, and this cold realization quashed all residual warmth she now felt, until the breadth of her soul weighed down on her stomach once more. Her mother cupped her face in an attempt to warm away her tears, but she still endured a chill distantly apart from the warmth she had indulged in before. A cold that existed miles away, such a dire urgency that existed with her friends and the troubles now impressing upon _their_ lives...  
  
She gave a sad laugh. "Years I have waited to hear these words... it has taken me through harsh winds, through biting sleet, through invariable heartbreak, all over the course of twenty-one years, and now... at the last possible junction, it is given to me on the very doorstep of death itself," She found she could not even be bitter about all of this being said, as wearied as she was in the existential sense.  
  
"The irony is lost on none of us here, in the land of the dead," Lamented her mother with yet more bittersweet sympathy.  
  
More that Naomi wanted, than anything in that moment, was for them to cease smiling that same sad smile, but again... she consigned herself to something else entirely, as her parents had each set a hand upon her shoulder; a comforting parental gesture that tore her fortified composure asunder. No longer, did she feel obligated to govern herself, no longer, did she stem the flow of her tears, no longer, did she resolve herself to the crushing burden of vowing silence against that voice within her; she would be felt, she would be seen, she would be heard falling to all anguish, and a long fall it was, but she did not fear the fall, nor did she fear hitting the ground, because, at long last, her family was there to catch her. Hundreds of arms, all there to support her through the terrible storm of warm and cold emotions alike, of bittersweet catharsis rolling over her like the tide. Her ancestors were there to hold her aloft and keep her from falling down into the earth...  
  
"I've missed you... god, _I've missed you..._ " Naomi trembled, her body feeling light and inconsequential while her heart only felt heavier and more tangible, _"I'm... I'm afraid, I don't know... what I'm going to do, I've lost - I've lost my way..."_  
  
"What has been lost can be found again," Consoled her father.  
  
"And there is no shame in not knowing," Assured her mother, "Only in not being willing to learn... and what is there to learn from the mistakes we have made, _Hana?"  
  
_"That... there is reason for all things, if only you pose the right questions, can the answers be yours to claim..." Naomi answered, in reference to teachings her mother had ingrained into her young mind many a time, at which her mother appeared satisfied, nodding her head in accordance.  
  
"This is merely the first part of the lesson, the other being what comes after, and this is something best heard from your father, as this concerns _his_ ancestors and the pact they made long ago," Her mother looked to her father, who stood, observing the two women who had so enriched his life with patience and fond reverence. Peace the likes of which he could never have achieved on this mortal coil.  
  
"All living creatures, large and small, show their true face when pleading for help, just as they do with how they respond," Her father began, kneeling, as he never had before when telling Naomi his stories in the past, and this, more than anything, finally humbled her enough to listen, and listen she did as she, too, knelt so that they could both be met at the same level, "This is no different for us, just as it is no different for the kindred spirits of Izanami, Watatsumi, and Shinatobe. Long ago, before the publication of _T_ _he Book of Later Han,_ the three clans of Daichi, Eguchi, and Sorano, were once joined under a single banner, as one clan united, _Shìjiè Wángcháo;_ The Clan of the World, set about to celebrate the glory of our world and the union of the Earth, Sea, and Sky.  
But, even then, it was not always this way: before it stood prosperous, The Clan of the World nearly destroyed itself due to famine, drought - it was unable to support itself for long and and was all but reduced to semblances of a dying kind. As our bellies grew thinner, so grew our desperation, and with this hope dwindled fast, with not even our closest allies, the Yáng, offering assistance in the midst of our dying hours," Instantly, recognition came to Naomi at the mention of the Yáng Clan, as she knew this to be the ancient moniker from which The Lioness herself had descended, "But salvation was not unobtainable, as our faith brought us to seek assistance from the spirit world, for you see the world was once smaller, with kindness flowing as freely as the water, and miracles were bound to occur. Thus, the kindred shades, Izanami, Watatsumi, and Shinatobe were found and with them we struck the holiest of bargains; in exchange for offerings from our harvests and fields, the spirits, in an act of tremendous benevolence, agreed to use their influence with the land to aid in our struggle. Suddenly, our harvests, which had once yielded little more than a grain, had prospered beyond our wildest hopes - the fields were lush with greenery thanks to Shinatobe's rains - the seas were plentiful from Watatsumi's management of the tides - and the earth itself had flourished beneath our feet under Izanami's healing hand - and so the land had been sewn to such resounding fruition that, not long after, a great temple was to be erected as homage to our patron spirits, celebrating the incredible feats they had accomplished, all was well...  
But, as you well know, humanity is a force unto itself, and one not so easily sated. As this exchange continued over into the next generation, we began viewing it as the obligation of the spirits to use their sacred powers for our benefit. In addition, we intended to selfishly reap all of the spoils for ourselves, thus dishonoring the promises we had made. Negotiations carried on to such a dire point that, when it came time for the spirits to hail outrage and refuse to assist us any further, humanity lashed out as it did, immediately laying waste to their sacred lands in response; we razed their forests to the ground, blotted out their skies with deadly smoke, and blighted their oceans with poisonous soot. What would come next would be nothing short of holy retribution, retaliation in the form of massacres upon the people of the land; a thousand human souls claimed as recompense for their suffering. Humanity endured its darkest day, one fraught with great and terrible cruelty, all of which, alas, was due.  
But as our self-made foes carried on with their purging of the surrounding lands, the oldest and wisest of us stood by, learning from their feats of divine might, studying their scriptures and everything they had taught us of their kind, and, thus, plans were concocted and, behind the scenes, contracts were meticulously crafted in a bid to seal away the very creatures we once called our friends, but who were now actively planning to rent us apart. When all was said and done, the great shamans of old imprinted the contracts within the interior of three scabbards, and the blades of three swords, in triplicate described as the Kindred Blades. With the swords forged and imbued with layer upon layer of powerful enchantments, it fell to three warriors, each learned in the techniques coined by earthly shade through the use of human souls, to seal away the raging spirits, and, with their sacrifice, they spared the rest of humanity from their insurmountable wrath. But the spirits had left us with a great wound, and we were taught to fear their power, once and forever, and so, when it came time for the division of the old world order into the new, fearing that they would be pulled into the ensuing conflict, the World Clan, too, went its separate ways; three new clans were spawned from the ashes, each named in honor of the three warriors of legend, who gave their lives to seal away the blight, with each clan tasked with carrying one sword and taking it as far as possible from the new decree.  
We hoped that the legends of Izanami, Watatsumi, and Shinatobe would fall into obscurity alongside the forgotten relics of the old world... but it would seem we were mistaken to believe that such terrible powers could so easily be tucked away amidst the annuls of history, and it is our own fault for the lives they destroy now. I feel great shame in knowing that you were one such victim, my _Hana_ _,_ and, as such, it was forced upon you to take up the burden of our arrogance. In our own attempts to suffocate the past, we only succeeded in letting it grow."  
  
Naomi took the following moments of ebbing silence to absorb the gravity of what had just been revealed. Over two decades spent awaiting the elusive answers to her every burning question, and now that these suspicions were finally laid to rest, every grimy anecdote regarding her blood-spattered lineage, she now understood why her parent were so wary to tell her these things. How could a child possibly be ready to bear such a gut-punching truth, that everything her family's legacy had been built upon, everything that made them what they were, all of it... was built on a broken promise? On the sacrifice of one-thousand souls? More than anguished for her own personal failure regarding Shinatobe, Naomi now felt doubly mortified and remorseful over everything she had been set to inherit. Not only this, but now she knew for certain the concrete fact that, whether or not she had sought the truth in the first place, no matter if she discovered the sword, all of it mattered not; she was doomed from the start to inherit the soul-crushing weight of this horrid burden. Now her mind was racing, every initial query she had buried furthermore under a stream of even more questions. Now that she had closure, she needed closure from the closure, she - she had to scramble for whatever reason she could find for things to make sense. She needed it, or else she would be driven completely insane!  
  
"Then... then it is no wonder the spirits have forsaken us, because... because they are hurt, because we were the ones who forsook them!" Naomi blustered out, her voice echoing horribly through the flat expanse of the monastery; out of the corner of her eye, she could see the hazy outlines of her relatives visibly recoil in apprehension, "We _burned_ their forests, we _poisoned_ their land, we _took_ everything and gave them _nothing_ in return! We were monsters, and... and they have every right to despise us, because everything, _everything,_ has been our fault for centuries and nobody has done anything about it!"   
  
"We are finished pointing the finger of blame upon others, for we were, all of us, destroyed by the evils of suffering and greed," Her mother stated in that same mellow, inconsequential tone, and for the first time in her life, Naomi felt hot anger surge within her toward her mother; she found herself wishing to shake them back to their senses, back to the land of the living, just so they could forget their enlightened sense of detachment for one moment and experience things at her level. Even when she was grown, they failed to take anything she said seriously... and it made her rightfully furious!  
  
"Complacency! That is all that I'm hearing from either of you!" Naomi shouted to the top of her voice, and for once, although she might have been mistaken, her parents, and even her faceless relatives, appeared to have heard her, "I do not _care_ about pointing fingers!" She brushed a few strands of her raven-tail locks out of her face to keep herself from looking more manic and deranged than she probably sounded, "I do not _care_ about tradition anymore! The fact of the matter is that _somebody_ needs to hold themselves accountable for everything that has happened, because _you_ might have forgotten with the distance put between you and responsibility, but there are still forces out there who have not, who are still in agony, and they are about to lay waste to all of Asia because of something our ancestors did!"  
  
"You speak as if you have already settled in your mind what you are going to do about it," Her father proposed with a quirk in his long eyebrow.  
  
"But does that mean you should?" Her mother chimed in, a heavily concerned expression now weighing down on her pristinely youthful features as she seemed to be speaking less to Naomi and more to her father, "Our _Hana,_ who has already suffered this inglorious burden, one which brought you here, back to your family-"  
  
_"You are not my family, because_ my family _is dead!"_ Naomi shouted thoughtlessly, but the longer she allowed the words to linger amidst the air, the less empty they sounded, and although she was instantly remorseful of having spoken to her mother this way, when she looked up, she not only found that her parents were smiling at her, but that their apparitions appeared fainter... and she found herself not so much sad that this was the case as reflective of the truths this brought to her attention, "I... I _have_ a family... they are out there, as we speak..."  
  
"One which, among them, possess abilities far surpassing those of us ghosts, surely?" Questioned her mother wistfully, her voice beginning to fade with the breeze.  
  
"And... _I am a Kenshi,"_ Naomi stated with conviction rising steadily in her voice, with that familiar sense of courage welling up within her, empowering her to greater heights of self-realization. Such feelings seem to be felt by the shades gathered around her, as well, and as she rose to her feet, a shockwave of movement and whispers reverberated at all sides, imprinted by the significance of her words, "Carrier of the Sword of Shinatobe..."  
  
"The meticulous parameters of which prevent any other from using the full array of its inherent properties," Her father reiterated, his pale, translucent eyes reflecting briefly the deep sense of pride he reserved for his daughter, who now stood tall before him, fully realized.  
  
"The title is what I decide, it is my curse... my responsibility, a promise to protect her, and to protect the world from the powers she threatens to misuse!" Naomi concluded for the express affect of coming to terms with the burgeoning sense of purpose festering like a disease inside of herself; she looked ahead, knowing that it would only mean more suffering, knowing that the torment she would endure pushing onward was unavoidable, but resolving within herself everything that she would hope to gain protecting everything she had ever cared for, resolving further that, as far as friends went... pain was the oldest one she had ever known. The noises of the dead bedecking her at all sides swelled in what appeared to be agreement to her resolve, the faceless apparitions being the first to dissolve into one another and swirl into a gale of wind around her, against which she stood her ground, looking one final time toward her parentage, they, too, fading into the din... but not without extending their hands to her, with the promise that they would now and forever be within her. But her heart was elsewhere in this very moment; it was with the family she had erroneously left behind, as they were in the midst of taking up their defenses in preparation for their oncoming battle against the gods... and she would not forsake them.  
  
Then, finally, the joint amalgamation of Clan Sorano made itself known, and every member that ever was, and every member that had ever been, roared out to Naomi in one clear voice:  
  
_" **WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?"**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so the people who read through the entire thing are aware, Naomi's arc is FAR from over. She has too much repressed trauma to deal with still that will eventually supersede her self-sacrificial "sense of duty", but rest assured, she has the world's greatest support system to help her work through it. They would never let her become a martyr.


End file.
